After The War
by SirRandomLoner
Summary: Imagine if you got a Torchwood DVD and smashed it into a Harry Potter book and Vwola! What if Ianto Jones was more that what met the eye? What if his parents were killed by He Who Must Not Be Named? What happens after the war and how will The Master of Death and The Man Who Can Never Die get along? And what does Torchwood have in store for our favourite Welsh teaboy?
1. Chapter 1

Ianto Jones... The Boy Who Lived... The Chosen One... The Teaboy and a bloody pain in the arse

All titles he'd owned, earned and looking back, yes, even _partly_ deserved.

He'd survived unforgivable curses, abuse, pain, suffering, loss, abandonment, heartbreak, guilt, torment, betrayal, fear, battle and the aftermath of hell itself.

Throughout all of this he'd kept himself in check, oh he'd had bad days. Some days he would sulk, others he'd torn about in rage and on a few, and he meant that as in he could count how many times on one hand, he'd simply sobbed until exhaustion claimed him.

Until one day he simply snapped. He decided he'd had enough of it all, he was sick and tired of everyone turning to him for the answers, turning to him for a plan, he was sick of people assuming he knew what he was bloody doing because he had no fucking idea who he even was.

He was Ianto Jones of course, The Boy Who Lived, The Chosen One and the pain in the arse, let's not forget the Teaboy shall we? But these were just names, titles he'd earned, owned and somehow deserved, but not for long.


	2. Chapter 2

**The day He broke**

Ianto straightened his shirt and took a deep breath, he held the flowers he'd so thoughtfully grown and picked with his bare hands from his tiny garden he'd started and knocked on the door firmly, he wouldn't mess this up, he had to make things right.

She answered the door, beautiful as ever, her long hair silky smooth, her skin a dark chocolate and smelling softly of perfume, a mask of an angle rest upon her face, frowning softly at him like a scornful princess of her servant, "Please Lisa, let me explain?" He begged

Lisa's face crumpled as she pulled him close and for one split second he felt happy, it felt like for the first time in years he actually had reason to smile that wasn't depressing. Everything was looking up, Voldemort was gone, Hogwarts was under reconstruction, The Ministry had been taken down a peg and Lisa had forgiven him.

Then he saw it, the tell tale sign on her neck... no not a bite from a vampire you muppet... Pegasus fever. Last documented case was ten years back, an extremely rare disease that was near impossible to catch, "I'm sorry Ianto"

"No" he pulled back, flowers now on the floor as he cupped her cheeks in his hands, searching her eyes frantically on her doorstep, "No, not you"

Twin tear tracks ran down her cheeks as she held his hands in hers, "I didn't know how to tell you"

"You don't tell me" he half growled half groaned, "Because this is one of Fred's _BLOODY TRICKS_ " he roared the last part, spinning around as if expecting to see him stood giggling behind him

"Ianto, Ianto listen to me" she grabbed his arms, "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry but there's nothing we can do" she looked him dead in the eyes, "I'll miss you and I'm so sorry"

Ianto's voice came out cracked and weakened, "How long do you..."

"A day, maybe two at most" she whispered, clutching onto him tightly, "I was going to send an owl, write you a letter"

Ianto exhaled in spiteful laughter, "A letter?" He shook his head as tears welled up, "You were going to tell me the first girl... the only girl... I have ever... in a letter?"

She watched as his heart broke and couldn't help but cry, "You've never said it you know" she fiddled with her hands, "Never once told me"

"It doesn't need saying" he closed his eyes and bowed his head, "If I don't say it you won't go, you're too _stubborn_ " he emphasised that last bit with a wave of his arms

"That's not how it works"

"It bloody well worked before" he said indignantly, "That's why you left isn't it? You ran away from me so I wouldn't find out"

"Yes, look at you I think I made the right choice"

Ianto picked up his flowers and thought for a moment before handing them to Lisa, "A day you say?"

"Yes" she accepted the flowers with a watery grin, "They're lovely"

"We'd better make the most of it then" he wiped his eyes gruffly before inviting himself in and slipping what he liked to call his Weasley mask in place, "I'd murder for a cuppa"

Later that night he was sat by her bed as she slept, he hadn't slept since the battle and part of him was a little worried before he remembered he had other things to worry about and he shut it down. Ianto simply gaze at her, her steady breathing and tore at himself for not making something of this sooner, he cared for her he really did, more so than he had ever cared for anyone really. His accomplice, his guide, his cheer leader and anchor.

His Lisa.

But he never 'made a move' simply because there simply wasn't time between all the dueling and running for his life. _Ron and Hermione made it work_ a little voice nagged until he shut it down, knowing full well the reason he never did anything but refusing to admit it both on principal of being wrong about something and a deep set fear of being un-accepted.

Again, worrying about himself when there was something more important to worry about. His attention shifted to the sleeping beauty and his stomach clenched, her breathing became steadily more ragged and she broke out in sweat, "Lisa?" He begged, "Not yet Lisa, you said we still had time"

Tomorrow they were going to talk about the good old days and play exploding snap, she couldn't leave yet, he sent out a Petronus for help as he held her hand tightly, "Ianto, I-"

"Don't say it, please"

She did anyway, "I love you Ianto Jones" she shuddered and stilled in his embrace

"Lisa? No, no, please not you" he shook her gently, "I-" he choked back a sob, "Me too" he cried instead

That was the night Ianto Jones disappeared from the Magical World, he left a short note explaining his absence as bloody well deserved and non-negotiable. He was gone for the time being and every attempt to find him would earn them a further year of his non-cooperation.

He told them not where he was going, nor how long for as he simply didn't know for himself. He never said goodbye as it wasn't one, it was just a little see you later.

Broken in ways a 19 year old boy shouldn't be, Ianto Jones stole into the night with only his broom, his wand and his backpack holding a few momentoes. His flat would be taken care of by Hermione and Ron would be all too happy to get his claws on the motorcycle at long last.

In the end all it took him was three hours on a broom, the death of half his friends, a war and what seemed like everlasting pain to figure out where we wanted to go, who he wanted to be.

He wanted to leave it all behind, all the responsibility, all the fame. He wanted to be a muggle.


End file.
